The Torturer's Daughter

about him now.”

“You used to trust my judgment.” That wasn’t the real problem, though. For the first time in her life, she didn’t care what her mom thought of her. But after what Jake had gone through, how could she bring him here to eat across the table from the one person who most represented Processing?

“That was before you insisted on maintaining a friendship with the daughter of two dissidents.”

If Heather is a dissident because of her parents, what does being your daughter make me? “You said yourself, you can’t control who I spend time with.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t do what I can to protect you.” Her mom sat a little straighter. “You can let me meet him, or I can have Investigation look into him.”

Becca’s mouth fell open. “Because you think anyone I’m friends with must be a dissident?”

“Because he was asking you suspicious questions about the daughter of confirmed dissidents. Your suspicions, whether or not you still have them, are more than enough for Internal to take an interest.”

Becca felt sick. Had her mom been like this all along? How had she never noticed? “So if I don’t let you meet him, you’ll report him as a dissident for something I said when I didn’t even know him?”

“Of course not!” Her mom looked scandalized, and vaguely disgusted. “You think I would compromise my integrity by reporting him as a dissident, with practically nothing to support that accusation, because I was worried about his relationship with you?” She shook her head. “I would have Surveillance look into it and find out whether there’s any reason to suspect dissident activity. That’s all.”

Was that the same integrity that let her get false confessions out of dissidents and make Anna disappear? Becca swallowed the retort. She should be grateful her mom wasn’t willing to report Jake for no good reason.

But if her mom had Surveillance investigate him, they would find out about the arrest. After that, at best she would find some way to keep Becca away from him, no matter what she said about not being able to control who Becca spent her time with. At worst, she would take that as all the proof she needed, and Jake would disappear like Anna.

“I’ll invite him over for dinner,” said Becca, already planning how to put it off.

“Soon,” her mom said, as if she could see what Becca was thinking.

“Soon,” Becca agreed.

Her mom didn’t get up. “I have to go in to work tomorrow morning, but I’ll be home in plenty of time for dinner.”

Becca sighed loud enough for her mom to hear. “I’ll see if he can make it.”

* * *

“So, Jake,” said Becca’s mom. “Tell me about yourself.”

Jake sat in the extra chair Becca’s mom had squeezed into the kitchen, his long legs spilling out from under the table. To his left, Becca watched him warily. He didn’t know about her mom’s threat, so he might not know how careful he had to be. And he was bound to show some hint of stress that her mom would misinterpret. Her mom’s reputation made people nervous under the best of circumstances. Even when they hadn’t spent time in Processing. Even when they didn’t have parents who had died there.

Jake shrugged like he had when Becca had asked him that question, but this time it looked jerky and uncoordinated. “There’s not much to tell.”

Come on, Jake. Give her something. Give her some reason to trust you.

She had told Jake he didn’t have to do this. She hadn’t told him what her mom had threatened to do if he didn’t; the lie of omission had given her a twinge of guilt, but she hadn’t wanted him to think he was in danger of being arrested again. She hadn’t figured out what she would tell him if he didn’t agree to come, but that turned out not to be an issue—he had agreed after only a slight hesitation.

Now she wondered if she should have told him the whole truth after all. Maybe then he’d know what was at stake.

He’s not a dissident, she reminded herself. He’s not like Heather’s parents. Even if she does have him investigated, the worst that can happen is that she’ll find out about the arrest and try to stop me from seeing him. They won’t arrest him again.

Unless the rest of Internal cared as little about the truth as her mom did.

“The lasagna came out great,” said Becca, a little too loudly. “Thanks, Mom.” She forced another forkful into her mouth. Normally she loved her mom’s lasagna, but tonight even the thought of eating made her stomach rebel. Just being at the same table with her mom did that to her lately.

“I’m glad you like it.” Her mom gave Becca a brief smile before returning her attention to Jake. “I’m out of practice. I don’t get much time to cook anymore. Some days I’m lucky if I make it home from work before midnight.”

Don’t start talking about work, Becca prayed.

“But you don’t want to hear about dissidents over dinner,” said her mom. She eyed Jake, a quizzical frown creasing her forehead. “Becca said you two have only known each other a couple of weeks.”

Jake nodded. “We just moved back here two months ago.” He darted his eyes around the kitchen—searching for an escape route, maybe. He looked everywhere but at Becca’s mom. Becca cringed inwardly. This would be a great time for you to act invisible.

The less he looked at her mom, the more closely her mom watched him. “But you used to live around here? Did you two know each other back then?”

Becca dropped her fork onto her plate. “Mom, why are you asking this stuff? I told you, we just met a couple of weeks ago. Why does it matter, anyway?” As if Jake weren’t having a hard enough time acting normal.

Her mom didn’t even acknowledge her. Her frown deepened. “Do I know your parents, then?”

Jake stabbed at his lasagna. “I don’t think so. Neither of them ever worked for Internal.”

Becca searched for something she could say to turn the conversation in a better direction—the last thing Jake needed was a reminder of his parents. She came up blank.

“Are you sure?” her mom pressed.

“I’m sure.” Jake was methodically dismantling his lasagna now. He spread it layer by layer across his plate.

Above the stove, the clock ticked away the seconds. How many more before this meal was over?

Her mom leaned a little closer to Jake, studying his face. “I could have sworn I—” She drew back. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her as she jerked up out of her seat.

She grabbed Jake’s arm and yanked him out of his chair. “Get out.” Her words sliced through the air. “Get out of my kitchen. Get out of my apartment. And don’t you ever come near my daughter again.”

Becca stood up, knowing she had to intervene but not sure how. What was her mom doing? What had she seen in Jake to cause this kind of reaction? First the weird questions, and now—

She went cold as the truth hit her.

Jake swayed on his feet, looking from Becca’s mom to the doorway and back again. “I—”

“Get out,” her mom repeated, in a whisper more dangerous than a roar. “Don’t say another word. Just leave this apartment right now.”

Becca had to do something. Say something to Jake, or to her mom, or…

She stayed where she was, still and silent, as Jake backed out of the kitchen.

* * *

As soon as the apartment door closed, Becca’s mom sagged against the counter. “Please tell me you didn’t know.”

Becca stayed where she was. She couldn’t move. “You killed her, didn’t you? You killed Jake’s mother.”

Her mom let out a long, ragged breath. “You knew. You knew about him and his family, and you still…” She clutched the counter like she was afraid she might fall. “I don’t know you anymore.”

I don’t know you anymore. Heather had said the same thing.

“She wasn’t a dissident. She was innocent. They all were.” Becca stumbled back and dropped, half-falling, into her chair. “Did you know? Did you even care?”

“That’s what he told you? And you believed him?” Her mom laughed without humor. “You should have known better than to expect the truth from a dissident.”

“He told me about his dad’s friend.” Becca traced the fake wood grains on the plastic-topped table, in the